Gordo ordered them on their knees. There were 24 men and women, all wearing the same type backpack. There were two dark-skinned Mexicans that Sangrita had disarmed. They were the “Coyotes”, the guides that took part of the thousand dollar per person ticket to ride that these poor people paid to have a risky »

Travel is broadening, as they say, and also flattening – we were elevated and also humbled. Every day on the Silk Road had seemed like a week, every week like a month, in the sense that travel extends your life, buys you time. And time, dear friend, is running out. »

I thought she said “There’s a bullet hole in my skull the size of Detroit” He got older but what he really lost was the energy of life he had this energy then he lost it because what happens is you start to see the outcome see where it’s all headed & So you don’t want to go there anymore but there’s already nowhere else to go so Fuck it is all you can think it stops making any sense then & confusion sets in & you don’t want to lose everything you’ve worked your ass off for but there’s no real reason to try to maintain it either Then you start getting fat which
he did...»

Keith Olbermann Special Comment:The Four Great Hypocrisies of the Debt Deal

Welcome to Times Square

WHY AREN’T YOU LAUGHING?

Funny man Budge Threlkeld’s death in 2005 was heartbreaking but historically appropriate. Few could match his charisma, innate kindness, and epic wit. He could endear himself to Republican tourists at a Disney World comedy club as effortlessly as if they were a gang of stoned malcontents in a smoke-filled basement in New York City. more...

Michael Sullivan'sTHE SEX LIFE OF ROBOTS

Columns

Bukowski’s (all new)NOTES OF A DIRTY OLD MAN
What about fame? They ask me. Will fame destroy you? Well now, if I am famous and if it destroys me (meaning my talent) then sixty one years of my life will have gone by without my having sense any of the
traps... »

Mike Golden’s APOCALYPSE WHEN?
He would always notice the spiderwebs.“We’re smoking them
now,” he cackled. Which was when I realized the right half of
my body was totally paralyzed. “Mine too,” he whispered.
more... »

HATE MAIL: ASK DR. FAUSTROLL, PATAPHYSICIAN
If you’ve got the balls to ask our resident psycho-genius “How much
more meaningless has life become during the Obaminable age of
Social Networking?” do so at your own risk, you pussies more... »

Darius James' FREE BROTHER BOBBY
Sometime between the ages of eight and nine, traumatized by The Story of Dr. Doolittle, and his adventures in Hugh Loftig's whimsical Africa, wherein a cannibal the color of coal, and suited in an armor of rusty mop-buckets, was bleached by the titular hero to aid said cannibal in his quest for the heart of a fairyland lass, I forsooked the insidious charms of children's literature, embarking on an investigation of works consigned to disreputable -- nay, lunatic -- realms of public inquiry. more... »

Renfreu Neff’s SLEEPING AT THE MOVIES
As William Burroughs starts to explain why he always orders lamb chops in restaurants, Allen Ginsberg leaned over and confided to me that he & Bill (he eschews the deferential “William”) have had sex since the latter’s recent return. more... »

CLUB 86'ed PresentsMikhail Horowitz & Paul Austin in SECOND COMING

Trailer of the 1987 East Village Film about the return of you know who to the lower east side. more... »

Jane King’s NURSE JANE
Two years ago I went to the hospital to visit a sick friend who just
so happens to edit this mag, only to find he was being tortured by
a sadistic nurse. At the time I had already developed an elaborate
theory about nursing as an apt profession for sadists, so I put the
booga-booga on the booga-booga she had put on my friend
more... »

As he squinted in through the doorway she commanded, “And NOW, Furman, kiss me!” As if cameras were rolling. My hand, by now, expertly playing the keyboard of her backbone as I bent her back, flexible as an accordion. »

Rudy Wurlitzer’s The Drop Edge Of Yonder
The Captain and the Portuguese crew were afraid to set foot on land, convinced that the entire West Coast had been seized by a biblical conflagration; a disaster brought on, they had no doubt, by the godless scum of the earth »

Buddy Godox’s
REGULAR JOBBuddy Godox’s moving and pathetic performance of “Regular Job” from Mike Golden’s 1987 East Village film, “Second Coming.” Would you hire this guy?»

Bob Zmuda's Mr X Chronicles #3
“Anyway, so we’re in Jersey, drivin’ along in the limo, and Mr. X sees this bakery, and says, ‘Driver stop over here, I want a glazed donut. Okay, so inside, it’s midday and there’s a few people in line, so X just blurts out, ‘I want a glazed donut,’ real loud, like they’re all just hard of hearing, and this woman behind the counter, her name badge said ‘Flo’ »

Obviously, politics breeds strange bedfellows, and those bedfellows have been known to breed more than a few conspiracies hiding behind generic government cover-ups, i.e., such as the blatant cronyism behind war profiteering and the oil companies’ windfall profits at the expense of the rest of the economy. And while we’re at it, let’s not... »

She woke up before noon, which is something she had not done for two or three years. Before she showered, she went for a jog. She came home, turned up her music, and practiced yoga for an hour. After her shower, she stood on the couch and pulled down the poster of George Clooney »

Shameless Gratuities?

He was up fourteen grand. He decided to keep four for himself and give the rest to Walker as payment for the next installment of the script, making himself the producer. He would have Walker sign a paper saying all three of them owned the script equally. This was his move. … »

Ok, given what’s been happening in this country, who better to serenade us than our dear Abbie, with this first time online oldie but goldie from the middle of the Chicago 7 (8) trial… »

Thanks for the wild turkey and passenger pigeons destined to be shit
out through wholesome American guts... Thanks for vast herds of
bisons... Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes...Thanks for
a nation of finks... »

I see my thirty-five-year-old boss Betty Allen standing at the door of the club. She scratches at an itch that’s under her tight black skirt and her hand yanks up her fish net stocking at the knee. . A tattoo of a zombie geisha fills up her entire upper arm. The tattoo goes against... »

Every Night the Trees Disappear is an intimate chronicle of the visionary filmmaker Werner Herzog directing a masterwork in which his actors were hypnotized throughout. This chronicle is interwoven with Herzog’s original screenplay to create a unique vision of its own, the married texts playing off each other hypnotically. »

Travel is broadening, as they say, and also flattening – we were elevated and also humbled. Every day on the Silk Road had seemed like a week, every week like a month, in the sense that travel extends your life, buys you time. And time, dear friend, is running out. »

The first step was getting out of India alive. Seriously, even in the ultra-security of an expensive, exclusive hotel, you can’t take your survival in India for granted. In India you always know it’s impossible to control events. »

Even if eating it is not exactly their thing
they always have the option to use it as a dildo
made exclusively for them personally by white trash fashionistas
from the south of France collection, Dominique,
would you like a tattoo of your face on your ass, dear,
while you’re waiting for the designer to take measurements
we can use... »

No big thing, but it wasn't a secret to anyone who was paying attention that the end of the world was a process not an event, yet when the inevitable finally kicked in, 99.4 percent of the population, including the religious zealots who were praying for it to happen, still didn't realize it. ... »

Djuna began to foresee the day when answering machines would begin to talk to one another. And the cassette would serve as mouth to some micro-sliver brain. She couldn’t wait. The more art or art PR she did the more she hated people. And she wondered if this was good. »

“I’m on a semen diet: when I see men I eat them,” she’d say with cognac on her breath, utterly impressed by her own attempts at vulgarity. Her eyes floating in the languid jazz of Coleman Hawkins like black seedpods on a mountain lake. »

“Its a roach trap. They’re attracted, go in, get drunk and drown. At least they went in a nice way and I get rid of some more roaches. It was a beer I wasn’t going to drink anyway. I mean, what’s the big deal!? So I left a beer out over night.” »

“Beer is tantric, man. It arouses all the faculties into a spiritual twister so that senses, emotions, sex, and smarts are all roused to their highest pitch, so that your memories and responses can be reconverted into the pure energy from which they all originated.” »

The vigilant light trails my transient shadow, eats away at it like vermin gnawing through drywall. And I can hear my voice being mocked by its own echo and vice versa. And when you think thoughts they feel like the thoughts of someone else. And they probably are. When I say something, what I... »

Her mind still allows her body to be a dreamscape. And when she flexes the wingtips of her scapula back it forms a voluptuous fissure, an alternate vagina which she urges me to explore with tongue and plum-headed glans — or tomorrow she might offer the inside of a Black Beauty tulip. And this... »

“You haven’t been around long enough to not have a life to complain about. Because drunkenness opens us up to enlightenment’s possibilities. It allows us to extract the “OM” from a LindeboOM or a DOMinion Beer. Beer apparently secretes this coded cheesy and viscous goo (not unlike smegma?) that actually initiates the yeast’s own... »

Rumors abound: They say the ozone is melting away. Like pantyhose in one of those sour Iron Belt breezes. They say somebody with a front door key Krazyglues apartment door locks. There are strangers in the hall in ill-fitting suits purchased on 14th Street who look at you like you are the stranger. »

“Ever heard the nocturnal song of the nightingale?” (Do the sirens, the car alarms, these “Manhattan shrikes,” ever vacate our inner ears?) Yea, I suppose I’m just another anybody who rants on and on because I’m either drunk, stoned, bonkers or horny or 3 out of 4. »

This is no longer the same San Remo where Dylan Thomas attempted gallant meldings of inebriation, gratification, and obliteration. I sat where I imagined he may have, trying to understand the dynamic of how his process of obliteration of self made him ever more eminently present. The more he killed himself the more alive... »

I could eat air, I could lift the nails off my fingers and eat them as eucharistic wafers. But I could not quite make her out — daguerreotype of saint or sadist? Had she no life other than the spiritual sustenance scraped from the temples of those worse off than herself? Was she not... »

Zombie in one hand, a Sam Adams in the other. A Sam Adams because he was both a brewer and American radical who advocated brew and revolution. A Zombie, on the other hand, is a drink as subtle as a bulldozer in a ballet; a frantic hit-or-miss chemistry that can wrench light from your... »

Even if eating it is not exactly their thing
they always have the option to use it as a dildo
made exclusively for them personally by white trash fashionistas
from the south of France collection, Dominique,
would you like a tattoo of your face on your ass, dear,
while you’re waiting for the designer to take measurements
we can use to fit your soul into a gift package?
»

Although Tuli was dubbed “the Noel Coward of Bohemia” by his friend co-founding Fug Ed Sanders, I always thought of the multidextrous humanist-humorist as “the Tom Paine of standup protest performance art”, but no matter what handle any of us pin on him it’s safe to say he has probably subliminally influenced more underground writer-poet-artist-publishers than any other Boho to come down the page this century. »

"dick lit" is here to acknowledge the good, bad and ugly that goes with it, as it celebrates every young boy's quest to get off the next time, and every old man's quest to get off one more time, before there is no time left to get off on... »

Nothing and Everything is about the relationship of Eastern thought,
particularly Buddhism, to the arts in post-war New York City —from the early 1940s to the early1960s—a handful of individuals brought about major changes in music, performance, dance, theater, installation, video, mixed media, painting, and sculpture, as the evolution from modernism to postmodernism broke down the idea of art as a practice devoted to a particular medium. The world—or life itself—became a legitimate artist’s tool, aligning with Zen Buddhism’s emphasis on enlightenment occurring at any moment.... »

For three hours Ali was in the ring sparring, and the entire time he never threw a punch. When he finally stepped down I asked him what he was doing. “I’m gonna get that sucker so tired of punching me he’s gonna fall flat on his face,” Ali replied. And so the “Rope-a-Dope” was born, not in the ring in Zaire, but in a gym in Pennsylvania.
»

It happened Thursday, April 18th, 1974, at Alice Tulley Hall, and those that were there will never forget it (if they remember it at all). The National Book Awards, commercial publishing’s now defunct version of the Academy Awards was in the bottom of the ninth, down »

Mimi & Richard Farina Live

In 1965, Mimi and Richard Farina dropped by the studios of WTBS (now WMBR) with electric guitarist Barry Tashian (of Barry & the Remains) for music and talk with DJ Ed Freeman. Richard is on dulcimer. One of Mimi’s two guitars is tuned like a dulcimer. The explanation for the brief gap in the tape has long been lost.

Michael Disend's RIDER OF THE JADE HORSE

Li looked firmly into his eyes. “No! I want man who is also a woman.” Penman nodded against his will, his gaze stealing down toward the strap-on dildo she was generously coating with lube. It thrust out like a red cannon from her leather harness. Why red? Is it because she’s from China?

“Dick lit” has been around since the first caveman’s curiosity stuck his dick into the equation when he rubbed those two rocks together around it until....DISCOVERED
Millie tittered, which is how girls used to be taught to laugh. Tilda wondered if this were an intentional jab.